


Moving Day

by the_oxfordcomma



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Angst, But he's our asshole, Fluff, Historical References, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Kevin is an asshole, Multi, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Post-Canon, Riko needs his own content warning, alcohol as a coping machanism, all that good shit, and he deserves good things, obsessive nerds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-06-09 16:45:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 19,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15271869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_oxfordcomma/pseuds/the_oxfordcomma
Summary: Nora’s extra content says that it takes Kevin many years to make a real friend. I simply wasn’t willing to wait that long.





	1. New Blood

**Author's Note:**

> Credit to Nora and her wealth of supplemental materials without which I would never have gotten pissed off enough to write this. Also, I am lazy at names and I accept “Lessons in Cartography” as quasi-canon at this point, so the names of all the freshman Foxes are thanks to the indomitable crazy_like_a, although that’s where my copycat tendencies end. I never expected my AFTG opus to be about Kevin Day, of all people, but here we are.

The freshmen Foxes arrived in the second week of July, and Kevin Day had already prepared himself to be unimpressed. He’d vetted them all, of course, and was vaguely confident in their ability to not embarrass his team once they had some significant training under their belts. All of them, that is, except Neil’s pet striker pick. Kevin had fought him bitterly about it, but Wymack had put his foot down after the fourth or fifth shouting match, and she was moving into the freshmen girls’ room down the hall today, just like all the others. Kevin briefly tried to remember her name, before deciding she was Neil’s problem.

Perhaps that was petty of him, a stubborn tendency left over from years with the Ravens that made generosity difficult. The Foxes had risen above all expectations last year, Dobson had reminded him yesterday, so improvement could happen, even where Kevin might not think it was possible. She knew Kevin would be unable to cut the new players as much slack as they might demand at first, but he shouldn’t underestimate how much the team’s bonding over the last year contributed to their championship win. Kevin wondered if Renee or even Andrew had told her about that, since Neil certainly hadn’t. Aaron said Neil never confided in Dobson. (And Aaron knew all about not confiding in Dobson.) Either way, Kevin doubted that last year’s perfect storm was going to repeat itself (in fact, it had better not, considering it almost killed them all), but it was another year at Palmetto State, and the prospect of another exy season ahead of him made his blood sing. Something was starting, and Kevin might actually make it to the end unscarred this time.

In the end, though, anyone new was just that. Green. Unexperienced. And not just in terms of exy at Palmetto either. There were whole lifetimes in the last twelve months that they simply hadn’t lived. They may have followed the scattered details of the season and Neil’s past and Kevin’s entire life that were unfortunately available to too many people, but they had no conception of anything, really. They simply weren’t there. They didn’t understand. And could never understand, as long as they lived; Kevin firmly believed that. Neil talked about family sometimes, and Matt did too. Kevin wasn’t always sure that was the word he would use, but there was an unconscious language between the Foxes as they were until today, an undercurrent flowing through their words and expressions. Things they just _knew_ , like why Neil got skittish at gas stations or that Allison preferred to be left alone at the end of August. Strangers didn’t know.

Two of said strangers were pulling their bags out of Matt’s truck in the parking lot when Kevin pushed open the doors of Fox Tower. He was headed to the court, preferring the sounds of exy to arguments about who would get the bottom bunk heard from down a hallway. He might have been able to slip by unnoticed, but Matt waved a hello around the open door of his truck, and the freshmen stared.

Kevin had been in the spotlight a long time. He was used to being recognized, even more used to being stared at, and understood the necessity of it in the face of his personal goals. Had he been in an airport, or a supermarket, or anywhere with press, he would have raised his carefully crafted and smooth-from-use public mask over his face, smiled brightly and politely, maybe shaken a hand or two. But these were the new Foxes, not the press. They would see soon enough who lived underneath the image they’d seen on the internet and television, so Kevin allowed himself to enjoy the looks on their faces as he swept a cool gaze over the small group on the sidewalk and pointedly did not smile.

The young woman groaning under the weight of a duffel bag wrinkled her brow at that, but the other freshman’s face had not shifted from its frozen state of awe since the door had shut behind Kevin. Kevin recognized him from the picture in his file. John Roberts, 6’ 1’’, striker, Nathan Hale High School. He had been Kevin’s number one choice from Wymack’s list of potential Fox candidates last year. He was ruthless and powerful, with exceptional statistics and an aggression that probably meant there were red cards in his future. Kevin watched as his newest teammate swallowed, found his voice, and held out a hand.

“Jack Roberts,” he said. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere on the court,” Kevin told him, because it was true. Just because John-called-Jack was evidently a fan, didn’t mean he had anything close to a free ride. It would be good if he outgrew that assumption quickly, if he had it at all. Kevin took his hand anyway, though. Talent like that deserved some acknowledgment.

“Yas, qween. Way to make the new kids feel welcome,” Nicky said from somewhere behind Kevin.

College’s premiere exy player ground his teeth against a rude comeback. Couldn’t Nicky have given him one day of peace before the freshmen caught on to the embarrassing nickname? The odds were good that they wouldn’t see the series of royal-themed emojis in his contact on Nicky’s phone for at least a few weeks, which would have bought him some time. Just because he didn’t want to be treated like a pop star, didn’t mean he wanted to be blatantly mocked.

Out of the corner of his eye, Kevin noticed the other new freshman sending a small smile Nicky’s way. She was significantly smaller than Jack, which probably meant she was a striker (only the Minyards got away with being tiny and deadly on defense). Neil’s striker, then. Clearly she appreciated Kevin’s nickname. He hoped her similarity to Neil with regard to attitude ended there.

“Want to give me one of those?” Nicky asked her. “Lizzy, right?”

Lizzy nodded, and handed over the duffel. Nicky faltered under the unexpected tonnage.

“What have you got in there, girl? Bricks?”

Lizzy smiled and averted her eyes, tucking a strand of straight, black hair behind her ear. She didn’t look like much, but then, neither had Neil when Kevin had first laid haughty eyes on him. But Kevin hadn’t been able to see Neil’s scars at that first glance, and Lizzy’s were on display. He could see a small blemish on her bottom lip where she’d obviously split it long ago, and it tugged at her smile a little. That in itself had nothing distinctly Fox-worthy about it, but the three small, circular burn scars on her right cheek did. Kevin thought of Neil’s, and swallowed against the sick feeling that rose in his throat. He could suddenly smell the air freshener of the hotel room in Baltimore, and felt the specter of Andrew’s fingers around his neck. Despite the oppressive heat, he shivered.

If Lizzy had other scars, she didn’t appear to be hiding them, since her shoulders showed slightly pink where her tank top exposed them to the sun, and she wore shorts. Andrew had been wearing black and long sleeves this morning, if Kevin remembered correctly. But then, Andrew was Andrew. Kevin could already predict his non-reaction to the team additions. Maybe it would be more amusing this time around.

“Kevin, you want to take this one?” Matt was pointing at a suitcase on the curb. Lizzy and Jack were following Nicky into the dorm, though Jack turned once to get another glance at Kevin, like he still couldn’t believe he was standing there. Kevin did not want to take the suitcase.

“I’m going to the court,” he replied.

“In what car, Kev?” Matt hauled another duffel out of the trunk and slammed the bed closed. “See your fellow monsters anywhere?”

Kevin didn’t. Matt would never use the term “monsters” around Neil anyway.

“Andrew went somewhere with Neil,” Matt answered his unspoken question. “They’ll be back later. Just help me move in these two and then I’ll drive you.”

“Fine.”

At least maintenance had repaired the elevator the previous week. Kevin would not have appreciated having to haul the suitcase up three flights of stairs. He had been planning on running to the court, but that had been before he’d spent more than thirty seconds outside.

“Who does this belong to?” he asked Matt when the doors opened.

“Lizzy.”

The door to the suite was open. It was odd to see a room so similar to his own without beanbag chairs. Lizzy had thrown a backpack on one of the two still-empty beds — Sheena had moved in a few hours earlier — and was unpacking the duffel Nicky had brought up. As she took a book from the bag and placed it on the shelf above her desk, Kevin glanced at the titles that were already there. He felt his eyes widen of their own accord. He recognized more than one of the books, including two that he knew were sitting on his own desk across the hall. One of his copies even held several notes in Thea’s handwriting shoved into the binding. They were _good_ books. Plus, Lizzy hadn’t brought that much stuff, and books took up a lot of weight at baggage claim. They were important to her. Kevin looked at Lizzy again. Neil’s striker had yet to prove herself on an exy court, but her shelf had certainly gained her a fair shot.

Lizzy noticed him standing there, and muttered a thanks for bringing up the bag. Kevin nodded in response.

“Hey,” she said before he could make a clean exit. She fiddled with the folding handle on the suitcase, but she looked Kevin in the eye. “I know you probably don’t want to hear this, judging by the way you reacted to Jack’s hello, but I watched your championship game. It was incredible.” She snapped the handle down into the suitcase. “Really. I’m really excited to play for this team.”

Kevin nodded again and stuck his hands in his pockets. “Thank you,” he said earnestly, feeling more human than he had all day. “I genuinely hope you’re worthy of it.”


	2. Potential

The first month was a predictable disaster. Brain still had trouble communicating with the other backliners, and had a habit of missing practice nearly once a week that had several members of the team — excluding Kevin, who didn’t care — threatening to send him to an early grave. Colby’s seemingly deathly — but certainly understandable — fear of Andrew was preventing him from making any headway in goal. Sheena had power, but her accuracy needed a lot of work, a problem exacerbated by the fact that she had no patience for repetitive drills, and made this fact loudly known. Brooke was slow to recover after any collision with another player, purposeful or not. She was doing fine, but not well, as was Lizzy, but the latter had not yet crashed or burned. The betting pools on the timing of the seemingly inevitable were growing rapidly. Only Jack was proving an exceptional player — showing improvement, taking criticism well, asking intelligent questions — though his attitude was becoming a serious problem for the players who were not Kevin. He had taken an instant dislike to Neil, and was not shy about voicing his opinions about the “amateur” vice-captain. He had taken to looking Kevin’s way during his tirades, as if expecting Kevin to back him up. Kevin wasn’t really sure why Jack thought this was a logical assumption, since Neil was still the better striker. If Jack was seriously overestimating his own talent like that, it would come back to bite him later on. Ambition only worked if you could accurately appraise what you had to work with.

Dan called an end to practice, and Kevin pulled his sticky helmet off his head. Jack was still grumbling about something to Sheena as he followed the rest of the team out the court doors. The two of them had become close very quickly; Aaron suspected they were fucking. It was part of the betting pool as well, though no one had received confirmation yet, since the upperclassmen predictably didn’t talk to the freshmen. Kevin grabbed his water bottle off the home bench and took a long drink. He wondered if he should call Thea. The sting of being without her was so dull from use that Kevin barely felt it if he wasn’t paying attention, but sometimes he wanted reassurance that he hadn’t imagined the things they’d said to each other the last time they met, or the time before that. For years, feeling this way about her was clandestine and dangerous, even after Kevin had left the Nest for good. Somewhere under his ribcage, it still felt like it wasn’t allowed. He wanted to remind himself that it was.

Given the time difference, though, Thea was almost definitely in practice at the moment, so Kevin settled for sending a vaguely insulting text about the Foxes’ daily progress. Hopefully, it would make her smile when she next checked her phone.

Kevin put his racquet back in his left hand and slid the bucket of balls Dan had left by the bench towards half court with a foot. He started a drill, launching the balls at a spot on the court wall. It wasn’t a particularly difficult drill; he fired shots in the four cardinal directions, and then in a diagonal X. Then again, faster. Again, faster still. Kevin lost himself in the repetition, enjoying how it felt to not think about anything for a while.

“Practice is over,” came a voice from behind him. “Didn’t you hear?” Kevin turned to see Wymack sitting on the home bench.

“I did,” Kevin told him.

Kevin sat beside his father, who had commenced waiting. It was a familiar ritual by now between the two of them. Kevin didn’t know if it was the revelation of their relationship or Riko’s death that had prompted the practice, because one happened pretty close on the heels of the other, but they’d spent a lot of time in companionable silence over the last few months. Everything about the final weeks of last semester had been messy and jagged. Kevin had not been warmly welcomed back to Palmetto after Riko’s funeral. The Foxes had been angry and vindictive in the face of Kevin’s odd grief, made even worse by the fact that Kevin hadn’t understood it much himself. Several weeks of summer break had thawed the ice significantly, but Wymack had still kept a close eye on his son. His presence on the bench told Kevin that he was there to listen, but didn’t pressure him to say anything if he didn’t want to. Kevin was glad no one expected him to voice how grateful he was for that, because he didn’t know how. Finally, Wymack determined that Kevin wasn’t in need of an ear at the moment.

“Brian did a little better on the communication front today,” he mused.

Kevin recognized the invitation to comment for what it was. “Even if he shows up to practice, he’s never going to be able to talk to Matt as well as Nicky or Aaron. We should stick with them when we play Binghamton and Davidson — teams with more strategic offense. But when we play Breckenridge, we’ll need a wall. Then, Brian and Matt are a good starting pair.”

“I wouldn’t say never,” Wymack said gently, “but you’re right about the wall. I’m thinking they’d be good in front of Colby. He could use the confidence.”

“He should build his own, probably.”

“That’s Dan and Neil’s job.”

Kevin shrugged. “True.”

“Go take a shower and get off my court,” Wymack said. “Nicky says you’re going to Columbia tonight.”

“Really?” Kevin wasn’t sure he was invited to those anymore. Andrew hadn’t necessarily cared about Kevin’s emotional state back in May, but Neil and Aaron certainly had. “Nicky said _I_ was going to Columbia?”

“What am I, a teenage girl? Find out yourself.”

Kevin stood and stretched out the fingers on his left hand. He’d been playing almost exclusively left-handed the last two days, and the muscles still weren’t used to it.

He showered quickly and picked up a towel from the floor where Nicky or one of the freshmen had been too lazy to get it all the way to the hamper. He checked his phone again to see if Thea had answered. She hadn’t, but Nicky had texted him _columbia 2nite_. Apparently, he was invited. He walked through the lounge, scrolling through the last couple of messages he and Thea had sent and lamenting the fact that Nicky still felt the need to text with incorrect spelling when autocorrect had been invented for years. He almost didn’t notice Lizzy sitting on one of the couches with her laptop, but he stopped short when he saw the screen.

She was creating her schedule for next semester, and the department search bar said “history”. She was reading the description for a Tuesday/Thursday lecture that she had put on her potential schedule.

“You shouldn’t take that class,” Kevin blurted. He snapped his mouth closed, as if it could retroactively prevent the comment from escaping. He was an upperclassman; he didn’t talk to the freshmen either. Especially about things that weren’t exy.

Lizzy gave a little start, and shot Kevin an intrigued look. “Why not?”

Kevin raised his chin and looked down his nose at her. It was a practiced move learned from years of playing copycat, and it helped him feel a little better about the dignity of the conversation he had apparently started. “It’s a survey course,” Kevin told her. “It’ll skim too much to be interesting.”

Lizzy shifted her laptop so she could turn towards him. She cocked her head to one side and appraised him like she was meeting a stranger. In a way, she probably was.

“And how do you know I don’t want to skim my history?” she asked archly.

“Because you have a McCullough on your shelf.” Kevin’s desire to prevent her from making a grave error outweighed his embarrassment at having noticed.

“How do you know I don’t just like _Hamilton_?” Lizzy was fighting a smile now. The McCullough was the historian's biography of John Adams.

Kevin rolled his eyes. “Well it’s not a Chernow, is it?”

Lizzy turned back to her computer and ostentatiously clicked the mousepad, evidently removing the class from her schedule. She looked back up expectantly at Kevin.

“What should I take instead?”

Kevin hesitated. She seemed to genuinely want his opinion. The veteran Foxes knew about Kevin’s love of history, but most of them had written him off as a nerd and the subject as boring. Renee tried to listen sometimes, but Kevin suspected she was just being Renee. He sat down on the couch beside Lizzy before he could think better of it, and she handed over the laptop.

The choices weren’t bad this semester. Kevin had looked again yesterday to see if they had changed. They hadn’t. The first-year courses were mostly survey ones, but from what he could tell, Lizzy could handle second-year lectures. Kevin adjusted the search criteria and scrolled down.

“Anything with Sloan is good if you want local history,” he said, hovering the mouse over one of the options. “He’s an expert in the field. And if you take his lecture class it goes a long way to getting into his seminar.” Kevin was going to be taking it once the semester started. He had emailed the professor specifically to guarantee his spot.

Lizzy looked at the description of the class. “Is he a secret Confederate?” she asked.

“Not so secret.”

Lizzy nodded. “Hilarious. Sign me up.”

Kevin clicked the “add schedule” button. His phone buzzed on the cushion next to him. Neil.

 

_leaving soon. You coming?_

 

Kevin typed back an affirmative as Lizzy took back her laptop. “I’ve got to go,” he said, standing. “Let me know what else you pick.”

“I’ll run all my choices by you,” Lizzy replied. She made a tiny flourish, as close as she could get to a bow while sitting down.

Kevin made a face. “I’m going to kill Nicky.”

“Don’t.” Lizzy laughed. “I hear we need him for the backline. But seriously, thanks.”

“Not a problem. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah. See you.”

Kevin’s phone buzzed again on the way out. Thea had responded.

 

_Sounds like maybe one or two still have potential._

 

Yeah, Kevin thought. Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's to giving shoutouts to your friends' colleges. Raise your hand if you also hate skimming history!


	3. The Confrontation

The Foxes trudged off the court. Their undefeated streak had ended at the hands of an undeserving team, and their loss of momentum showed in their hunched shoulders and slower steps. The only exceptions were Andrew, who was never impressed by anything, and Jack, who wore a thundercloud expression and looked determined to share it. He ripped his helmet off his head and launched it at the wall. Colby jumped. His first time in goal had not gone well at all. In a last ditch effort, Wymack had shoved Neil back onto the court with Lizzy for the final quarter to try and close the gaping point gap. He had almost managed it, but it meant Jack had been benched.

Neil caught Kevin’s eye across the hallway. They were both thinking about the argument they’d had last week about Neil’s ability to control the errant striker’s attitude. It was not the first time. Neil had faced Riko and Ichirou, and he dealt with Andrew every day; he should be able to get one freshman to toe the line. But Neil let Jack get under his skin. Kevin couldn’t understand. Was he a vice-captain or not? Did he want to keep that trophy on their shelf? Neil should be slicing Jack’s temper off at the knees. God knows Riko would have. Neil had spat something clever and scathing back at him, and the debate had ended there. But Jack looked to be itching for a fight at the moment, and Neil would probably walk into it no matter what he said now.

“Respect your equipment,” Neil warned. It’s what Kevin had wanted to say, but there was no way he was doing Neil’s job for him.

Jack’s vehement “fuck off, Wesninski” was predictable, but the fact that he turned to Dan next was not.

“Why the fuck did he go back in?” he demanded, jerking his head in Neil’s direction. “He played almost a full half, and he nearly missed that last goal. I had it in hand!”

The hallway had grown quieter, if that was possible. Jack was blocking the doors to the locker rooms, and no one moved to go past him. Kevin didn’t care. If Jack wanted to have this out here, fine. The Foxes were slipping, and that could not be allowed to happen, not in the face of what they now had to lose. Every tick of the scoreboard clock for the last fifteen minutes had felt caustic. Something in Kevin was itching for a fight too.

Dan leveled a cool stare at Jack. “That was Coach’s decision.”

“Whatever,” Jack’s mouth twisted into a sneer. Kevin’s gut curled in a kind of cruel recognition, his own temper on someone else’s face. “We all know he listens to you.”

Dan crossed her arms over her chest. “What do you want me to tell you, Jack? That I’m sorry?” She shook her head. “It was the right call.” Actually, Kevin might have put himself back in as well if he really wanted to save the score, but Wymack seemed to share Neil’s unreasonable faith in Lizzy. Under normal circumstances, Kevin might have said this out loud, but the edge on Jack’s mouth was grating on his nerves.

“Bullshit.” Jack hadn’t picked his helmet up. He turned to Kevin now. “It’s fucking ridiculous how much time he sucks up on that court —“

“I am standing right here, shithead,” Neil reminded him.

“All _due respect_ ,” Jack shot back sarcastically, “shut the fuck up.” He spun around, still holding his racquet. Kevin grabbed it out of the air before it could hit anything, and it sent a brief, but sharp pain up his hand. A bolt of fear shot through him, cold and destabilizing. It wasn’t even that bad of an impact. What the fuck was wrong with him?

Jack wasn’t finished. “The professionals are trying to have a discussion,” he told Neil.

Allison raised a perfect eyebrow at that, and Matt stood up from where he was untying a shoe.

“Jack, cool it, will you?” Matt said, voice low.

Jack would likely be a professional player someday, and a good one at that, but Kevin was not charmed by the implication of a barrier between the two of them and the rest of the team. He put the racquet down against the wall and curled his hand into a fist, testing. Nothing happened. Instead of being a relief, it was unnerving. Kevin turned away and began to undo his neck guard, moving towards the locker room door. He was suddenly done with this conversation, and so were the rest of them.

Jack apparently didn’t agree. “Wow,” he said. Kevin could hear the venom in his voice. It corroded his self control. “I must have missed a lot last year. Must have been some drama to make you Neil’s bitch, Boyd.”

Kevin stopped undoing his armor.

“Probably hard to see lack of talent with his dick up your ass, huh?”

Nicky snuck an apprehensive glance at Andrew. None of the freshmen seemed to catch it, and Andrew didn’t move a muscle. All the veteran Foxes were now on edge. From Brooke’s shaky stance, the feeling was pooling around all of their feet like thick sludge.

“Neil doesn’t have a lack of talent,” Kevin said, his voice a drum-tight film over the anger bubbling in his throat. He had never wanted to hit Jack before, but he wanted to now. It felt like this had been a long time brewing. “You have a lot to learn from him. He will get more playing time and he will receive more attention, and that’s just the way it fucking is. Because he’s going to be your captain someday. Because he’s going to be Court someday. And because he is worth more to that court than you ever will be.”

Jack’s face went slack with shock.

“You tell ‘im, Kev,” came a voice from behind them. The tether in Kevin’s gut snapped. He rounded on Lizzy with an intensity that surprised even himself.

“And _you_! Neil fought tooth and nail to get you onto this team, and for the life of me, I cannot understand why. I would _never_ have signed off on you. In fact, I didn’t. Your passes tonight were sloppy, you appear to be making up your own fucking plays, and your fear of backliners appears to be crippling. You’d better earn your spot on this line sooner rather than later, because otherwise I’m going to have to scream ‘I told you so’ from the fucking rooftops. So get. Your shit. Together!”

He stopped, breathing hard, only inches from her face. Instead of the fearful expression he expected (and some deep part of him hoped to find), she smirked.

“So you gonna fuck me or what, Princess?” she replied.

Kevin slammed the door of the locker room, and didn’t speak to Lizzy for a week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me hours and hours to write this goddamn scene on a 12-hour bus to Wellington. So glad to be rid of it, but it had to be done. A lot of the wording of Kevin's telling off of Jack was in Nora's extra content, as was Lizzy's two cents, so I can't take credit for the "Princess" line.


	4. The Turn of the Tide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If any chapter is going to be triggering, it’s probably this one. Just a heads up. And for those who wanted more internal Kevin angst, I present my gift to you.

It took Kevin over a month to work up the courage to go to Abby. It wasn’t constant, he told himself, it wasn’t consistent. It was probably nothing.

He knew it was terribly unlike himself to do something like this. If Neil or Andrew or Aaron or even Lizzy had the same problem, he would never let them go so long without at least getting a professional medical opinion. He knew the fear crackling across his ribs was irrational, but it was as paralyzing as it was impractical. In reality, it was possibly even life-threatening, since everything was tied to the level of exy he could continue or not continue to play. But of course, hadn’t it always been that way?

Dread weighed down his hand as he raised it to knock on Abby’s office door. He knocked with his left hand. It had become compulsive, the constant testing of it, seeing if it would fail him. He couldn’t tell if the vibration in his muscles was from rebounding off the door or something else. Paranoia leeched into the rest of his body from the point where his knuckles met the wood. A headache was blooming behind his right eye; he hadn’t slept well in weeks. He was running on fumes. The final straw had been when Neil had said something to him on the court. If Neil could tell something was off in his game, Kevin was no longer able to pretend the problem didn’t exist.

“Kevin!” Abby looked pleased, but not surprised, to see him. Neil must have blabbed to Coach, who had told Abby. Kevin absently wondered what Abby’s relationship with his father was supposed to mean to him. He swallowed hard and said nothing as the team nurse opened the door to let him in. One problem at a time.

Abby gave him a warm smile he couldn’t return, though she was one of the few people Kevin actually wanted to smile at once in a while. He sat on the table and the brittle paper crinkled and ripped from the motion. Kevin’s insides echoed the sensation.

“What can I do for you?” Abby asked. As if she didn’t already know.

Kevin looked down to where he was unconsciously cradling his hand in his lap. He stared hard at his palm, not wanting to see the scarred knuckles on the other side. “It hurts randomly. No rhyme or reason to it as far as I can tell. How long until it’s really healed?”

Abby’s brow furrowed. “May I?” She reached out to take his wrist, and he let her.

She turned his hand over. “No problems with your wrist?”

“None.”

“When did this start? Start up again, I mean.”

“Maybe a few weeks ago. When the season started.”

“Any restrictions in your range of motion?”

“A little.”

Abby asked him about levels of pain and what he had been doing when it flared up. Kevin answered as best and as clinically as he could, trying to ignore the tangle of nerves in his chest.

“Ok,” Abby said, repositioning Kevin’s hand in her own. “Tell me if it hurts.” She poked and prodded at the bones and muscles. Kevin tried not to hiss when she pushed too hard between two of his fingers. Abby noted this and nodded, still concentrating. Kevin didn’t even see it past the flash of a black racquet behind his eyes. His own past screams rang in his ears.

Abby was saying his name. Kevin blinked.

“Are you all right?”

“What’s the diagnosis?” Kevin hoped the fear in his voice wasn’t audible.

Abby frowned, because he definitely hadn’t answered her question. It was an out-of-place shape on her face.

“Well, nothing is broken or torn as far as I can tell. I might want to get you an x-ray just to be sure.” Abby relinquished his hand. Kevin balled it into a fist. It twinged, and Kevin’s stomach twisted into a knot.

“It’s strain,” Abby continued. “David told me you’ve been playing exclusively left-handed for several weeks.” She placed what was probably supposed to be a reassuring hand on Kevin’s shoulder. “I know it’s probably not what you want to hear, but I don’t think you can go back to playing like that.”

“How long till I can?” Kevin croaked out.

“Kevin.” Abby’s voice was low and measured, like she was speaking to a child. It was just as well, because Kevin could barely comprehend what she was saying. “You may never be able to use your hand as much as you used to.”

The word “never” ripped a hole through Kevin’s chest. He’d been so hopeful a few months ago… Or maybe it was cockiness. He was no better than Jack.

“You’re still an excellent player right-handed,” Abby assured him. “And I’m not saying you can’t ever use your left hand again, but if you keep trying to push it back to where it was, you could be looking at a stress fracture, which could put you on the bench.”

“Thank you, Abby.” He didn’t know how he got the words out in a throat that had gone dry as a bone. If he had let her take him to a hospital when he showed up at Palmetto. If he hadn’t pushed so hard these last few weeks. If he hadn’t spilled Riko’s coffee at breakfast that day. If he wasn’t so afraid. If, if….

“Kevin —“

“Thank you,” he said again. He slid off the table, and more paper ripped. “Let me know if you want me to get that x-ray.”

Abby backed up out of his space, concern painted all over her features. She looked like she wanted to stop him from leaving. That wasn’t happening. Kevin suddenly thought he might finally understand Neil’s penchant for running. He wanted to be miles away.

 _Never_.

It was too big a word. Too heavy. Too permanent. The unfairness of it all burned like a brand on Kevin’s skin, so hot he could almost smell it sizzling. He didn’t need to run; he had already done it, so long ago now. He should not feel like this. He should not be broken anymore. He had hung on by his fingernails and crawled out of the abyss, slicing the nerves that had tied him down, picking up the pieces of himself and fitting them back together millimeter by tiny millimeter and by sheer force of will. Walking back onto the court with a queen on his face had been a victory, his final goal a conquest. He’d won his own life back, like a gladiator in a ring of claws and dark feathers. He had escaped Evermore, escaped the Ravens. He thought he had escaped Riko. Riko, who hadn’t said a word when he’d ended Kevin’s world as they both knew it. Not a single sound. Kevin swayed as the memory of a murderous glare darkening already dark eyes nearly collapsed his knees. Riko’s fingers still clawed under Kevin’s skin even in death, ripping him apart from the inside out, scrabbling at his guts and crushing the bones of his hand, again and again and again. Holding him back, pulling him down, no matter how much he kicked and screamed in protest. Kevin fought to remember what Riko’s coffin had looked like going into the ground. Panic rose in his throat, cutting off his air.

 _Never_.

_You will not live to regret defying me like this._

Kevin had stared back through the grate of his helmet across the wooden plains of a battlefield. _Yes, I will_. Who was the person who had said that? Kevin couldn’t find him now. Riko had scraped him hollow. Again.

He wanted a drink.

The weight of Evermore was sudden and crushing, suffocating him. It knocked him to his knees. It smelled like failure.

_You will not eat, you will not sleep, until it is perfect._

“ _Hai, masutā_ ,” Kevin whispered. _Yes, Master._ He pressed his forehead to the court floor.

_You make a mockery of my work. You are a disgrace._

Kevin tried to say he understood. He flinched under the memory of impact, and couldn’t tell where the blow landed. He tried to cry out to someone, wanted that someone to be Thea, to be Jean, to be Andrew or even Neil or Matt, and knew it wasn’t.

 _You’re so fucking Stockholmed. It’s disgusting._ That was Aaron.

Neil had laughed when Riko had died.

_Ravens don’t do well alone._

_I am not a Raven anymore._

The room spun as someone dragged Kevin back up to his knees. He jerked away, opened his mouth to apologize, to explain, but his lungs hit a wall.

“Day, what the fuck?” Lizzy dug her fingers into his shoulder. Kevin’s brain heaved itself back to reality at the sensation.

“Shit, just—just breathe, ok?” Kevin could only gasp in response. Couldn’t he just have his breakdown in peace? He saw his own panicked face reflected in Lizzy’s eyes and hated how weak he must look to her. This is the real Kevin Day, kid.

Lizzy’s other hand appeared at the back of his neck as she pushed him into a sitting position. “Put your head—“

Kevin almost fought her as she guided his head between his knees. “Yeah, there you go,” she said. “Just breathe.”

“I—can’t.” Jeremy Knox had sent him a text that morning in response to a question he’d posed the night before. _Jean’s doing great!! :)_ And here Kevin was, shattered like he’d left Evermore yesterday.

“Yes, you can,” Lizzy insisted. “You’re just having a panic attack, Kevin—“

“I fucking—know that.”

“Ok, then shut up and breathe.”

Kevin stared at the grain in the floorboards. Lizzy’s hands were still firm on the back of his neck and on his shoulder. They grounded him as he gulped in oxygen, forcing his lungs to work.

After a long minute, Lizzy let him raise his head.

“What are you doing here?” Kevin grimaced at how raw his voice sounded. He sounded like he’d been screaming, or crying. He hoped he hadn’t actually done either, but he couldn’t be sure. “It’s our day off.”

“Honestly,” Lizzy replied, “I’m here to practice. Some asshole said I might need it.”

Kevin rolled his eyes at that one, but he had been wondering where Lizzy’s sudden improvement had come from. She was still far from Jack’s level, but she had made impressive plays in their last two games, and was getting consistently faster and more precise at practices. It was as if Kevin’s acerbic comment had been the catalyst that finally got her pissed off enough to do something drastic about her playing.

Lizzy was watching him carefully now. She didn’t appear to be judging or criticizing with her gaze, just studying, like she was taking inventory. Sweaty hair? Check. Rumpled clothes? Check. Defeated expression? Check. Still breathing? Also check.

“Sometimes I forget you’re as much of a Fox as the rest of us.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Kevin spat.

Lizzy glanced pointedly at Kevin’s left hand. It was limp and useless beside him on the floor. Lizzy’s thoughts were probably somewhere between “mentally unstable” and “abuse victim”. Kevin scowled and moved his hand to the other side of his knee so she couldn’t see it.

Lizzy only looked off at a point somewhere over Kevin’s shoulder. “Brothers, huh?” she said. “They’ll fuck you up.”

Kevin’s anger screeched to a halt. Brothers? The press had used the term, of course, but phrases like “future of the sport” and “princes of exy” had replaced it long ago. And since he’d exposed the truth of his “accident” back in May, no reporter had been malicious enough to try resurfacing it. Kevin hadn’t allowed himself to consider Riko that way in a very long time. He was pretty sure Aaron would never speak to him again if he said it out loud, and since last Thanksgiving, he hadn’t even let himself think it. “Brother” was a dangerous word in Fox Tower. It also implied some kind of equality that had no place in what he and Riko had meant to each other. Exy and Riko were the two things that kept Kevin breathing all those years under Castle Evermore, that made him who he was, inextricably tied together and woven through every thought and secret question in the dark. He was nothing without them. But Riko was king, always. Riko lead, and Kevin followed, leash tight around his neck, obeying and getting out of the way. It was instinct, compulsion, self-preservation. The hierarchy was set in stone. One and two. Until it wasn’t.

But maybe it did fit after all. You found brothers in the dirt of a trench, facing the same onslaught together. If you needed each other to stay afloat, stay alive, that was a kind of brotherhood. A visceral kind, a fatal kind. A brother was a part of you, blood or not, no matter what anyone said, but Kevin and Riko had certainly shared enough blood and sweat to make them so. Two motherless machines raised by a demon and his cult. Even if you ran, a brother was still a brother, Kevin thought, no matter what they had done to you, how much their betrayal had hurt, if you shot them through the fucking head. It wouldn’t change what they were to you. And losing one, well, that was like losing a limb. The phantom pain could eat you alive.

That was the part Aaron didn’t understand, even though he should. Neil was clueless in the same way, and Jean ignorant. Even Thea couldn’t grasp it.

But somehow Lizzy could.

“Did your brother do that to you?” Kevin asked. He tapped a finger to his own cheek where Lizzy’s most visible scarring lived.

Lizzy’s eyes flicked to Kevin’s face. She gave a barely perceptible nod. “Step-brother. Him and his friends. They thought it was funny.” Lizzy gave the floor to her right a twisted, ugly smile. “They were really high. They would have done other things, too,” she said, poking at a bruise on her arm, “but they didn’t get the chance. Probably don’t have a right to be so damaged, seeing as it was just an almost.”

Kevin’s mind went very quiet. He had been on this team long enough to know that receiving information like this was usually like pulling teeth. He knew the weight of what she was giving him. It was a peace offering, a pain to match the one she’d just seen in him. She had seen him vulnerable without permission, and she was evening the scales of her own free will instead of letting them settle in her favor. Kevin decided against saying something bitter.

“That doesn’t look like an almost to me,” he said honestly, indicating her scars again. “And comparing your trauma to others’ isn’t productive for anyone.”

Lizzy laughed a tiny, disdainful laugh. “I bet you Dobson tells you those exact words every time you mention Jean Moreau.”

Kevin stared at her, stunned. She was absolutely right; he had lifted that line directly from one of his sessions with the team psyche.

“At least your brother’s dead. He can’t hurt anyone anymore.”

Kevin swallowed hard. That was true. “Where’s yours?”

“Prison. Not forever though.” Lizzy was doing her best to look unfazed by that fact, but the facade was thin.

There was a long pause, both of them lost in thought. They were each trapped for a brief moment back in their own personal hells, but now they were anchored where they sat by the other, two battered vessels on the floor of the Foxhole Court.

“I didn’t really mean what I said in the hallway,” Lizzy said suddenly. “A while ago. I just wanted to get a rise out of you.”

Kevin didn’t really think she had. “It worked.”

Lizzy smiled a tiny smile. “You’re a little uptight.”

Kevin snorted.

“Look,” Lizzy said. She looked up at Kevin. “You were right, about my playing. I’m doing better, but I’m not where I should be.” He recognized the look on her face as expectant. She wanted something from him. He wasn’t in the mood.

“Let me guess,” Kevin said dryly, “Neil told you to give me your game?”

“What does that even mean?”

“Never mind,” he huffed. “I’m not taking on charity cases at the moment.”

Lizzy’s eyebrows came together in a frown. It looked more at home on her face than Abby’s, but there was still something incongruous about it. She fixed Kevin with a determined glare.

“You’re the best there is, Kevin,” she said. Like a fact. Kevin tried to pretend it didn’t strike a Riko-soaked nerve. “And I need help. You’re my teammate, so I’m asking you for help.”

Kevin said nothing. Lizzy apparently decided to take his silence as agreement, because she stood and offered him a hand.

“And you look like you need to blow off some steam. So teach me a crazy Raven drill until I fall over, ok?”

Kevin didn’t take her hand, but he stood anyway. “Ok.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to Nora's extra content on this one.


	5. Warming the Marble

Kevin ran up the court, instinctively looking for an opening as he neared the end of ten steps. He hadn’t actively counted his steps in a long, long time; his body knew its own rhythm and the rhythm of the game well enough unconsciously. Lizzy was matching him on the other side of the court in Kevin’s peripheral vision. Kevin could pass to himself and keep running, but the opposing defenders were moving towards just the right positions…

Kevin slammed the ball into the wall nearest him, too hard and at the wrong angle to be a proper self-pass, which is what the other team had expected him to do. The ball rocketed at the shocked eye level of the backliners, right across the court. It bounced off the far wall and hit Lizzy’s racquet, who had sprinted forward in a split second. The goal lit up red a blink later. Kevin slowed to a jog, nodding at Lizzy as he stopped to turn back to the Foxes’ side of the court. He looked at the scoreboard and almost laughed. The clock had stopped when Lizzy had scored, with seven seconds left. Another player might have considered that nothing to work with.

At the whistle, the Davidson strikers shot off towards the away goal. Their dealer launched the ball forward. It was too high. Kevin’s feet left the ground, and he brought his racquet up to meet the ball, putting as much power as possible behind the shot. It was right-handed, so no danger. He landed as the Davidson goalkeeper missed.

The clock now had two seconds left.

The Davidson dealer just passed the ball to a backliner with a bored expression.

The game ended.

Kevin slipped off his helmet just in time for Lizzy to jump at him, using his shoulders for leverage to push herself into the air.

“Ok, Princess,” she quipped as soon as she hit the ground, “tell me the damage.”

Kevin shoved her good-naturedly. It was just a waste of energy to bristle at the nickname at this point. “You definitely could have caught that last pass more neatly. You should have timed it so you only needed one movement to catch the ball and score. Plus, you should have used about three fewer steps to get around that backliner about five minutes ago.”

Lizzy grinned. “Is that all?”

Kevin rolled his eyes as they moved to join the rest of the celebrating Foxes. “I’ll compile you a list at our next night practice. We’ll go through it and work on everything. That footwork drill you hate is definitely first, though.”

Lizzy spread her arms and crooked her fingers at him. “Bring it, Day.”

“Can you obsessive nerds be cool for five minutes?” Brooke interrupted. “We’re moving on to the playoffs!”

“Next stop: death match,” Brian intoned, sounding as close to the Mortal Kombat voice as he could. The effort made him stretch his face into a bizarre expression, and Brooke, Colby, and Renee laughed.

“Nice job, kiddies!” Dan crowed. She was hanging off Matt’s side, and she reached over to ruffle Neil’s hair. He didn’t even try to duck. “Let’s go be nice to the sore losers, shall we?”

The freshmen hopped off with Dan and Neil to begin the process of consoling the other team, and Nicky sidled up beside Kevin.

“Do I need to tell Thea she’s got competition?” he asked suggestively. Kevin didn’t even think twice before smacking him on the back of the head, hard. Nicky complained loudly.

“Knock it off, dude,” Matt told him, slinging an arm around Kevin’s shoulders. “Let the man have a friend. It’s cute.” He slapped a hand against Kevin’s chest armor. “Proves you have a soul underneath all that cold marble.” Nicky took a break from complaining to snort at the phrase “cold marble”.

Kevin shrugged off Matt’s arm and tried to swing at Nicky again, who danced out of reach. “As you’ve said so many times, I don’t really do friends.”

“I do say that,” Allison chimed in, gliding past. Nicky went back to rubbing the back of his head as they shook hands down the line of defeated opponents.

“Maybe it’s a good thing,” Matt mused when they reached the end. “You could be the link we need to the baby Foxes! Real team bonding!” Kevin made a face.

“Bonding that could get us to finals,” Matt explained, because he knew Kevin couldn’t resist that particular dangling carrot. “Just saying.”

“Can you fuck off now?” Kevin asked him.

Matt held up his hands in surrender. “Just don’t blow it, ‘kay? Also, Renee says Brian wants to come to night practices, but he’s afraid to ask.”

“Why?”

“Rumor has it you hit people,” Nicky said unhelpfully.

Matt shrugged. “Probably Andrew. Look, is he invited or not?”

“He needs the practice,” Kevin allowed.

Matt grinned. “Perfect.” He clapped Kevin on the shoulder. “I’m telling you, man. Keep up not being an asshole, and you’ll be our ticket to the big times.”

Kevin wondered if Dan had told Matt to say all those things, and considered exactly how manipulated he should feel. He hung back as the rest of the team went to the locker room to avoid talking with them. He considered calling out to Aaron as he passed, but decided against it. They were almost back to normal at this point, and when they were drunk off their faces at Eden’s, it really felt like it, but an undercurrent of unease and distrust still colored their interactions everywhere else. Kevin thought of Lizzy’s fierce energy and pushy generosity and how different she was from closed-off Aaron. Maybe they _were_ his friends, no matter what Allison said. They both understood him in a way other people didn’t, he supposed, though it was hard to see that with Aaron at the moment. Different from Thea, different from Jean. Closer to Jeremy, maybe. He chewed on his lip as he pushed through the locker room door. Maybe Matt was right, ulterior motives aside. Maybe he _could_ be a bridge, someone in the right place at the right time for once in his life. It sounded like a lot of work, but Matt’s tantalizing mention of the wonders it could do for the team would be worth it. Plus, if he figured out how to be a good friend to Lizzy, it might help him patch things up with Aaron. Jean was too far away to be reached, but Kevin’s team wasn’t. And he was tired of being alone in crowded rooms.

He would have to talk to Neil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know there’s some contention about Kevin’s ethnic ancestry in this fandom, so I’ll remind everyone that marble comes in many different shades. Interpret how you will.


	6. Reign Like Queens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day early so I can spend the weekend in the woods with my fam. Surprise!
> 
> I was going to write “with apologies to Reign”, but I’m not sorry. TW for the shredding of another fandom.

Kevin tapped on the mousepad of his computer to rewind the video a few seconds so he could watch the play again. It was Thursday night, and Andrew had glared at him over a tub of ice cream until he left the dorm, so he had spent the last hour in the Foxhole Court lounge studying the Foxes’ last few games. He was evaluating the angle of Neil’s racquet as he caught a pass and shifted to score against Breckenridge when the door opened, spilling Brooke, Brian, and Colby into the room. Kevin would have paid them no mind, even as Brian began to hook an HDMI cable up to a laptop, except he saw Lizzy out of the corner of his eye. Kevin wrenched out an earbud.

“What the literal _fuck_ are you doing?”

They all froze. Lizzy looked up at him in irritated confusion. She stopped the utensil in her hand on its way to her mouth.

“I’m fucking _eating_. That all right with you, Your Highness?”

“You’re eating Nutella. Out of a jar. With a butter knife.”

Without breaking eye contact, without even _blinking_ , Lizzy took a giant lick out of the Nutella on the knife.

“That’s disgusting.”

“Don’t be homophobic, Kevin,” Lizzy taunted. Brooke tried to squash a giggle.

“I really couldn’t give a shit about anyone’s sexuality right now,” Kevin ground out. Nicky had taken to accusing Kevin of homophobia every time he told him to do something during practice that he didn’t want to do. The LGBT freshmen had followed. It was very quickly driving Kevin insane. Andrew had said it the other day to push his buttons, and Kevin had nearly exploded into a bitter stain on the court wall. The other Foxes found it very funny. Kevin had told them all to go to hell, and still wished some of them would. “I give a shit about your rotting insides.”

Lizzy continued to lasciviously eat the Nutella. She was definitely doing it just to make him mad now.

“You know what?” Kevin huffed. “Forget it. All of you enjoy the death of your sports careers.” He still didn’t know where all the crap Andrew ate went on his tiny frame, but somehow he still played superb exy, and maybe the freshmen possessed similar magical metabolisms. More importantly, Andrew Minyard and junk food taught one a lot about the phrase “lost cause”. Kevin put the earbud back in and pressed “play”, determined to ignore all of them, but Lizzy hopped on the couch and pulled it out again.

“No, no, no, wait,” she pleaded. “I’m sorry. I will eat the Nutella less obnoxiously now.”

“You shouldn’t be eating it at all.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that. Watch _Reign_ with us.”

Kevin raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to watch rain?”

“The show,” Lizzy explained. “Reign like _queens_ , Kevin.” She raised her eyebrows to indicate that she thought this was a real selling point. She tried to push the laptop screen down, but Kevin pushed it back up. “You’ll like it. Actually, you won’t, but that’s the point.”

“Are you going to start making sense any time in the near future?”

Lizzy simply grinned. Another retort perched on the edge of Kevin’s tongue, then saw Lizzy’s disappointed frown at the bottom of the cliff and slunk back into his throat.

“It’s a historical drama,” Brooke explained. Historical sounded pretty good to Kevin, but drama he could probably do without. Besides, he was in the middle of something.

“You watch that, I’ll watch this,” Kevin said, trying to keep the gruffness out of his voice. Neil had told him — The second time, not the first. The first time he’d laughed so hard that Kevin had left the building and given up for a week. — that simply spending time in the same room as the freshmen would be more helpful on the team continuity front. The other upperclassmen were trying, too, inviting their newer teammates to parties and hangouts, although there was still a tangible divide. No one had received a summons to Columbia. As usual, Andrew was Neil’s exception to everything. So Kevin may not have been in the mood to watch stupid television, but he could watch this game just fine without properly hearing it, and if he stayed put, he could kill two birds with one stone. The things he did for exy.

Lizzy sat by Kevin on the couch with Brian beside her. Brooke took a spot on the floor in front of Lizzy, who proceeded to braid her hair. Colby curled up on a nearby chair and periodically threw pieces of popcorn at Brian, who tried to catch them in his mouth. It was so normal and casual that Kevin had to either look away or stare. He turned back to the game on his screen.

Jack would need a new racquet eventually. A heavier one. Jack’s swings were shouting this to Kevin, and he mentally kicked himself for not noticing it sooner. It would be too much to simply switch completely right now, of course, but Jack could ease himself into it. There would be an awkward adjustment period, but with the unimpressive nature of their opponents the next few games, this was probably the best time for that. Certain Foxes would probably get twitchy about a heavier piece of equipment attached to Jack; Kevin was banking on Nicky, Aaron, and Colby as frontrunners. They would simply have to get over it. Exites was open this weekend, though Kevin knew exactly what the response would be if he asked Andrew to drive. He really needed to invest in his own car one of these days. Maybe Matt —

“Who’s that, again?” Brian piped up from the other end of the couch. He was pointing at a blonde man on a horse onscreen, who Kevin could have picked out of a lineup as a CW actor. The man was wearing a doublet — sort of.

“That’s Prince Francis,” Brooke told him.

“Francis II,” Lizzy clarified, glancing at Kevin. Kevin looked back at the man on the screen, then at Lizzy, whose eyes were sparkling wickedly. She had to be joking.

“1550s Francis II?”

Lizzy burst out laughing. “Told you it was a great show.”

“What’s the matter?” Brooke turned to stare up at him, making Lizzy lose grip on her hair with a noise of protest.

Kevin hesitated. It was like picking classes with Lizzy all over again. Like they didn’t know he was only supposed to be one thing.

“That,” Kevin pointed an accusatory finger at the screen, “is not Francis II.”

“Pretty sure it is,” Brooke argued. She looked a little apprehensive though, like she knew she was right, but wasn’t fully willing to pick a fight with him over it. Kevin didn’t care.

“He’s got to be at least twenty-five!”

“So?”

“So he _died_ at the age of sixteen.”

Brooke waved a hand absently, dismissing the argument. “TV shows always hire twenty-five-year-olds to play high schoolers. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Of a combination of meningitis and hemophilia.”

“What?” Brain turned, and Colby’s popcorn missile hit him in the ear. “That sounds supremely nasty.”

Kevin glared at the television. “Francis II was sickly his entire very short life. He never, _ever_ , looked like _that_.”

Lizzy confirmed it. She was looking at Kevin with that stupid grin on her face again.

“Why,” Kevin asked with a passion he actually felt, “do you watch this trash?”

Lizzy shrugged. “Because it’s fun to yell at! It’s so horrible.”

“Hey,” Brooke protested from the floor. “I think it’s compelling.”

“Ok, but sweetie, it’s about as far from history as Andrew Minyard is from a Teddy bear.”

“They’re both kinda small,” Brian said quietly, as if Andrew might be lurking around a corner.

“And there’s a guy called Francis. I said far, not opposites.”

Kevin watched the non-Teddy bear in question block an impossible goal on his laptop. He had let the video keep going while he had been arguing Francis II. He had to focus.

But every few seconds, Lizzy would laugh, or snort, or roll her eyes, reminding him that there were things going on outside the game on his screen. After several minutes of this, Lizzy leaned back into Kevin’s space and pointed at a dark-haired woman who had just appeared to gaze adoringly at the false Francis, flanked by two giggling friends.

“That’s Mary Stuart,” she told him.

That was it. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“How old is she supposed to be?” Brian asked around a piece of popcorn.

“Fourteen,” Lizzy giggled. She shimmied herself into a different position on the couch, wriggling with the excitement of a five-year-old. She poked Kevin in the arm. “Oh, and her friends? Lola and Aylee. Greer and Kenna are off somewhere.”

“Let me get this straight.” Kevin took out his earbuds and held his hands up, as if he could stop this disgusting flouting of historical fact by the power of the Force. “These teenagers, who I’m supposed to believe are from sixteenth-century France, — they’re speaking English in British accents, too, by the way, don’t think I haven’t noticed that — are named like Brooklyn hipster children?”

“I _know_!” Lizzy raised her hands up near her head and jerked them outwards, miming cartoonish indignation. “It’s so awful! And you haven’t even seen Nostradamus yet.”

“Nostradamus?” Kevin wrinkled his nose.

“Hotter than Francis.” Lizzy laughed some more.

Kevin groaned, but he couldn’t fight a smile any longer.

“They’re really the worst, the people who write this show,” Lizzy said. She suddenly grew serious, remembering something. “Somewhere in a later season, Queen Elizabeth fucks Robert Dudley in a cell.”

The smile dropped from Kevin’s face.

Lizzy shook her head. “I know. So disrespectful. It’s definitely their worst offense. And you’ve seen the fashion.”

“But why?” Brooke wanted to know. “Weren’t there rumors about it in _history_?” She wiggled her fingers like history was a mystical fairytale entity. Kevin glared at her.

“Rumors, sure,” Lizzy admitted, “but never in a million years would the O.G. Q.E. actually fuck a _married commoner_!”

“A woman with that kind of shrewdness and political acumen would never put everything she built at risk like that,” Kevin agreed haughtily.

“Ok, that’s it,” Brooke threw up her hands. “Too many big words. I have had enough with you history buffs Gordon Ramsay-ing my show! Keep your damned facts to yourself.”

“Calm down there, Kellyanne,” Brian quipped.

“Sixteenth century politics only, please,” Brooke said primly.

“These sixteenth century politics are fake as fuck, though,” Lizzy pointed out.

Brooke let out a squeak of indignation and stuck a warning finger at her. Lizzy leaned over and grabbed Kevin’s laptop, opening the sticky notes app so she could repeat her statement in all caps. She smiled innocently at Brooke.

The rest of the episode proceeded in much the same way. The historical blunders were numerous and on the equivalent level of war crimes in Kevin’s book. He dreaded the day someone decided to make a CW show about exy. The note on Kevin’s computer got very long as he and Lizzy furiously typed their nitpicking. Sometimes they had to fight over the keyboard to type out the mistake first. Kevin never let her win, but she managed to shove him off a few times.

He laughed. Real and genuine. And when the episode was over and the freshmen flitted off back to Fox Tower, he didn’t delete the note.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The historical tidbits are true, courtesy of the wise and all-powerful Amani. I got the whole “don’t be homophobic” thing from the internet but I forget where. It was so beautiful, I had to include it.
> 
> Edit: found it. It's from minyardjostenrivalry.tumblr.com


	7. The Stranger

“Oh, come on, Kevin,” Brooke whined. “All I’m asking for is ten insignificant little digits.”

Kevin held open the locker room door and waved a hand like a traffic controller, prompting her to go through ahead of him. He didn’t respond to Brooke’s prodding, just like he had been not-responding to it for the last fifteen minutes.

“Give it up, Brooke,” Brian said. “Clearly he wants Knox all for himself.”

“From what I hear, he’s going to have to fight for him.” Sheena leaned forward to better gather her hair into a ponytail. “Word on the street is he’s dating someone on the team.”

“What team?” Lizzy asked.

“Wildcats!” Brian shouted suddenly, spastic like a reflex.

Lizzy shoved him, but didn’t turn away from Sheena. “Our team?”

“No, his team, dumbass. The Trojans.”

Despite the fact that Lizzy was not the only freshman more complex than they appeared, the whole lot of them were chatty, sometimes annoyingly so. On their shallowest days, they could be counted upon to prattle on about unimportant things in a way that many of the elder Foxes couldn’t. Kevin saw it as a double-edged sword — often inane, but invaluable when the inside of his own head got too loud. With their game against the Ravens looming, Kevin found himself more and more grateful for alternate subject matter in a way he had never been before. Every day he woke up feeling like someone had tightened his ribs by another millimeter. He and Neil were starting to see each other around the suite more often between the hours of midnight and six. They were not enjoyable meetings.

Neil and Andrew were standing together now near the entrance to the court, only a breath apart and seemingly lost in conversation. Kevin wondered why they had dropped their guard enough to stand so close to each other. Someone on the team — nosy freshmen specifically — would probably notice.

“What’s the truth, Kev?” Lizzy asked. “Is Jeremy Knox taken?”

The light of the hallway caught in a metal sliver between Andrew’s fingers and danced onto the wall. Kevin’s pulse leaped in his throat.

“Well, I could ask him myself if I _had his number_.”

Brooke’s tone made Neil turn, and he looked at Kevin around Colby’s shoulder. Neil’s eyes were icy, and there was a set to his shoulders that Kevin wished he didn’t know quite so well. Since coming to Palmetto, Neil had gotten better at quashing his “flight” response. Kevin was currently staring at what “fight” looked like. Next to him, Andrew’s expression looked even deader than usual. There was danger through that entrance. Kevin knew this as instantly and definitively as a strike of lightning. A ripple of fear set his hair on end.

He hadn’t realized he’d stopped short until Brian bumped into him from behind. The other freshmen were walking ahead to the court, oblivious for the moment.

“What’s the holdup, man?” Brian asked.

Andrew’s knife was hidden again, but everything about him looked sharp.

“Everything’s fine,” Kevin lied, not looking at Brian. “Just go in to practice.”

Kevin stopped in front of Neil and Andrew. For a long second, none of them moved. Then Neil took a breath, and dropped the bomb.

“One of Ichirou’s men is in the stands.”

Kevin stopped breathing.

Most of the time, Kevin was able to put Ichirou and Neil’s deal with him out of his mind. Lately, it had even gotten easier. Some days Kevin almost forgot. But he should have known that it was too tenuous a situation to last.

“What?” he croaked.

“You heard me.” Neil sounded annoyed.

“Why?” Kevin stared hard at Neil, hoping the implied _what the fuck did you do?_ was getting across.

“Don’t panic,” Andrew told him flatly. “And don’t run.”

Kevin wanted to hit him. If there was ever a time to panic, this was it. They could be staring down death right now.

“He’s apparently just here to observe our playing,” Neil said.

“Observe our playing?” Kevin repeated. He fought to make sense of it. Why send someone to a practice instead of a game if Ichirou wanted to see them play? His mind raced, scrambling. What could have possibly prompted it? A show of power from Riko had usually meant something was backing him into a corner. Did this blatant reminder from Ichirou mean the same thing? Was anything powerful enough to do that?

“Did your uncle—“ Kevin began.

“We don’t have time to figure it out now,” Neil snapped. If the Hatfords had been up to something, clearly Neil hadn’t been consulted. And he wasn’t happy not knowing.

“Neil.” Kevin fought to keep his voice steady. “How much trouble are we in?”

Neil glanced at Andrew, then looked back up into Kevin’s face.

“That’s just it,” he said. “I don’t think we are.”

None of it was shaping into anything logical. But maybe that was just how Ichirou wanted it. A simple reminder. As if they needed one. Kevin wondered if Jean was currently receiving a similar visit. He felt suddenly horrible at the thought that his former teammate might be experiencing this alone.

“We need to get on the court,” Andrew said.

“It’s just a normal practice, ok?” Neil pressed. He glanced over his shoulder at the court entrance. “Do not tip off the freshmen.”

It didn’t surprise Kevin that Andrew couldn’t even spare a thought for the new Foxes. He might have bristled at it if he wasn’t so grateful for Andrew’s presence. Logically, it was crazy to have faith in a tiny, angry blonde in the face of an entire crime syndicate, but nothing about Kevin’s life operated according to regulation guidelines.

“He’s a scout,” Kevin decided. “From a professional team. The Hawks, maybe. That’s what we’ll tell them if they ask.”

Neil looked at Andrew, who didn’t protest. For Andrew, that was agreement. Neil’s gaze was steady as he looked up at Kevin. Eerily steady. Neil may have spent most of his life running from his father, but he couldn’t erase the shadow of the man from his face. Kevin suppressed a shiver, thinking that he’d rather die right there than admit that to Neil.

“Play with your right hand,” Neil said.

This was his team. Andrew and Neil. As usual, it would have to do.

The Foxes were split into the usual cliques as Neil led the way onto the court. It was very quiet. The freshmen had no idea what was going on, but they could tell by the way that even Allison looked nervous that something was up. Kevin dreaded the day they worked up the courage to ask. Twelve pairs of eyes scanned Neil, Andrew, and Kevin as they walked towards half-court. Coach Wymack met them there. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but Andrew cut him off.

“Start the practice, Coach. We don’t have all day.”

Wymack took a beat to look at each of them in turn. Kevin didn’t have time to compose a proper facial expression before his coach turned to shout at the other Foxes that they had better get running. He looked like he was about to place a hand on Kevin’s shoulder or reassure him in some way, but when Kevin met his eyes, it was clear there was nothing adequate to say. Kevin and Neil simply had to play.

And play they did. Although he avoided looking at him directly, Kevin could see Ichirou’s man out of the corner of his eye every time he turned, stationed a few rows from the topmost seats and sitting with the stiff slouch of someone with a gun on their person. Kevin felt something inside him that had been dormant a long time twist open, blossoming into a deadly thing made of fear that made him run faster, throw harder, push ahead. Adrenaline coursed through him. His instincts told him a dropped pass would flay him, a wrong step break a bone. They were old instincts. He tried not to think as much as possible, because his thoughts could trip him up, and he couldn’t afford to fall.

But questions bombarded him anyway, worries, doubts. Plain, old, indefatigable fear.

When he passed to Neil and Neil simply stopped running, Kevin’s heart skipped a beat. He skidded to a halt in confusion. Unable to help himself, he stole a glance up to the stands.

They were empty.

Had they passed the test? Kevin looked at Neil, who didn’t seem to have any answers.

A whistle blast cut through the air, signaling the end of practice. Kevin took off his helmet and placed it on the floor. Whether they had passed or failed, it was out of his hands. For the first time in his life, he couldn’t wait to get off a court. He was ready to shed this whole experience, clean it from under his fingernails if necessary, and pray he’d seen the last of it. But after half a step, he collided hard with Aaron. The smaller Fox shoved him with an irritated grunt and surprising force. Kevin staggered back.

“Aaron.”

Aaron didn’t turn or give any indication that he had heard Kevin speak. He was stalking towards the exit. Not the locker room exit either, the emergency exit that led straight outside. None of the other players had gotten over the sudden stop to practice long enough to move quite yet. As Aaron shouldered the door open, the alarm went off, just as the bold, red letters on the door predicted.

“Aaron!” Kevin caught the door before it slammed shut, and followed him out onto the sidewalk. It had gotten darker, and the sky spoke of past violence, the colors of a dark bruise in most places and bleeding into real night towards one horizon. The cicadas were out in full force, filling the air with white noise.

“How long are you going to shut me out for?” Kevin demanded. “It’s juvenile.” He hadn’t planned to say it. Aaron stopped at the strip of grass where it met the curb and stared out into the parking lot. He looked small.

“Until I fucking graduate and the process happens on its own,” Aaron said. It sounded like a lonely situation to Kevin. And improbable.

“That’s a bad idea.”

Aaron sucked in a breath and turned on Kevin. “Why are you pushing?” He let his lip curl into a sneer. “You’ve got little freshman buddies now. Go bother Lizzy, will you? Leave me alone already.”

Kevin glared at him. “I can’t.” It came out through his teeth.

It was the truth. While it didn’t make his life any easier, he couldn’t just abandon his attempts to reach Aaron. Kevin couldn’t fully heal without him. Lizzy was important, but she couldn’t be that last piece. He wondered if Aaron knew how much power he had.

Aaron snorted. “Have Neil and Andrew infected you with melodrama?”

Annoyance shot through Kevin’s gut. He was not in the mood to be mocked. “I’m not going to apologize for anything.”

“Who’s asking you to?” Aaron scoffed.

“You are!” Kevin shot back. “You’re punishing me and it’s frankly unoriginal.”

Aaron crossed his arms over his chest. His knuckles were white. “A lot of people got punished who shouldn’t have,” he said. “Take one for the fucking team.”

Kevin pretended not to understand the implications of that. “You hate a cancer for what it does to your body but that doesn’t mean the surgery to remove it doesn’t hurt.”

Aaron laughed bitterly. “Are you metaphoring me right now? Jesus Christ.”

“You need to let it go,” Kevin snapped. Aaron moved to turn away, and Kevin’s voice rose as he walked a few steps into the parking lot. “Either make your peace with it or let it go. _You need me, Aaron_.”

Aaron whipped back around. “What the fuck are you on, Day?”

“I know you think you’re not alone anymore because you have Katelyn,” Kevin told him. Aaron lifted his chin, daring Kevin to say a word against her. But Kevin wasn’t interested in that.

“And that’s great,” he said. “Good for you. But you can’t tell Katelyn about the man in the stands today. You can’t tell her who he is or why he scares you or she’ll live her life in fear and you can’t have that, can you? Because you promised her she would be safe.” Aaron’s jaw worked, but he didn’t move. Kevin had struck a nerve. It was too late to turn back now.

“You need someone who understands,” Kevin continued. He began to talk faster, afraid Aaron would walk away again before he could get out what he wanted to say. “Someone who you don’t have to explain things to, who can read your fear because they share it. You may have Andrew now, but who are you going to call when you wake up in a cold sweat at three in the morning? Or when you see someone on the street who fits the profile and you just can’t breathe for a minute? Or when you need a place to crash because you think someone’s after you and you can’t lead them home? Who are you going to turn to then?”

Kevin watched Aaron’s face, searching for a change, a shift, and there wasn’t one. It was possibly the longest speech Kevin had ever made in front of Aaron, or anyone who wasn’t a journalist, for that matter. The cicadas were deafening. It took a long time for Aaron to answer.

“And you’re going to do all that, are you?”

“Not for free.”

Aaron understood bargains. He knew what Kevin wanted in return. He’d always known. But he didn’t move. Kevin had to offer something else.

“He was all I had, Aaron,” Kevin said. It was not easy to get it out, and it felt like the last resort it was. “For so long. If I could—“

“I don’t want to know that!” Aaron exploded. “I don’t want to know about Riko Moriyama. I don’t want to know who that guy was watching practice today or how close to death we all are every fucking day or any of the other things I can never forget because of you and Neil and your shit! _I never asked for this_!”

“Well that’s just too fucking bad,” Kevin hissed. “Because you’re not the only one!”

Kevin listened to his own heartbeat as Aaron faced him down across the strip of grass. Both of them were breathing hard. The cicadas screamed into the falling night.

Aaron began to nod, minutely, not really looking at Kevin. It wasn’t really a “yes” kind of a movement. Then he turned towards Fox Tower in the distance and began to walk. Kevin could only stand there.

It was only a few seconds before he heard the wail of the stadium alarm again, and Lizzy stepped out next to him. She hadn’t bothered to change out or shower. Kevin wondered absently if the others had abstained as well, if they were in there comparing theories.

“Are you ok?” she asked. Kevin didn’t feel the need to answer that. They watched the sky blacken for a long minute.

“I know you can’t tell me some things,” Lizzy said. “But you’d warn me if we were in danger, right?”

It suddenly occurred to him that he might be a very hazardous person to be friends with. That if he failed in his duty to Ichirou, Lizzy might suffer the consequences, without having any clue why. He understood Andrew a little better all of a sudden. It was hard to have people who could be damaged. He wanted to lie to her, he really did. But the cool stare of the man in the stands had shaken his core and his capacity to delude himself into thinking the Foxes were safe forever.

In the end, he stared off at the spot where Aaron had disappeared and said nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nylkebi23 deserves a big shoutout for this chapter, which I didn’t originally intend to write. Thank you for planting the seed about Aaron! I hope this made all your wishes come true.


	8. The Event Horizon

Black holes have the most powerful gravity in the universe. Mind-blowing gravity, time-bending gravity, gravity so commanding that not even light can escape. The effects of that gravity spread through the cosmos, sucking in everything within reach. At the event horizon, the very knife edge of the precipice, time stops. When you inevitably fall into the darkness, you’re stretched into oblivion, until nothing that you once were remains. That’s why black holes can’t be portals to alternate dimensions, like in Star Trek. Nothing ever comes out, on one side or the other. (At least, that’s what Brian had explained semi-coherently to Nicky in Fox Tower the other night after several shots of tequila.) Kevin breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth and looked up at the stadium, trying not to see an event horizon in the doorway before him. A glance at Neil said he was probably doing the same.

It was not the first time either of them had been back to Evermore. It was not even the first time Kevin had looked at it and not seen home. But standing here now, time really did seem sluggish. Kevin might have morphed and changed into something different in the last two years, but the black, towering walls had not changed at all. Every beat of Kevin’s heart thudded heavily in his ears. He’d been on edge and irritable for weeks, and even Lizzy was keeping her distance, though she’d been appearing in his line of sight more and more frequently lately, slowly needling his boundaries open. Kevin could feel himself retreating behind barbed walls lately, though. Neil had shouted at him multiple times for snapping at other players, and he’d almost gotten into a fistfight with Brian, of all people. Kevin was really dreading going inside. He knew where the emergency vodka was hidden on the bus. It all but had his name on it.

But he couldn’t play drunk, would never dream of missing even the tiniest sensation of the game because of dulled senses, and he would rather throw himself off Tower East than lose to the Ravens in a moment of weakness before they’d even gone inside. He had come here before and left a champion. Both teams might have shifted somewhat since that last time, but he would do so again. Night practices had gotten crowded, and even Kevin had to admit that the difference was palpable on the court. For the first time since the freshmen had shown up for move-in day, it looked like they might reach the heights they’d clawed their way to last year. Today was just another step on the way to that goal. If only he could get his heart to believe that.

Someone stepped into Kevin’s peripheral vision, and he blinked dumbly down at the short, blonde figure.

“The kids are staring,” Aaron murmured after a few moments of silence. “Just go through the door. We’ll drink all the vodka when we win.”

Aaron always did have the inconsistent, but uncanny ability to read his mind.

Aaron was still squinting up at the stadium, but Kevin knew that he was no longer simply existing near Kevin’s shoulder. He was standing at his side, in every sense of the word, and for the first time in months. Kevin didn’t know how long it would last, but he would certainly take whatever Aaron was offering. Strength, support, and if Kevin was lucky, the promise of more to come. For today, the Foxes would come out of Evermore again whole — or at least, as whole as they were when they entered — and victorious, and Aaron would be part of the reason.

“All of it?” Kevin ventured.

Aaron looked into his face then. Kevin had no idea how people still mixed up the Minyard twins. Clear, readable emotion simmered under Aaron’s expression, fierce and determined and a little cocky. Kevin felt the ground solidify under his feet.

“I’ll race you to the bottom if you want.”


	9. Enemies

The Foxes changed into their gear in the claustrophobic locker room, and Wymack gave them a run-down of the strategy.

“The Ravens might have taken a fall,” he said, meeting eyes around the circle, “but they’re still dangerous. They _will not_ give you this win without a fight, and they’ll play as dirty as they always have. So watch each other’s backs out there, and no slacking. Clear?”

The Foxes nodded their understanding.

The stadium was packed, a sea of black and red with a few brave orange buoys bobbing among the waves. The Ravens’ reputation might be somewhat tarnished, but they could still fill Castle Evermore with no problem. The rumors that the ERC might disband the team had been debunked months ago, though only a select few people knew the nature of the powerful hand behind the decision to keep the Ravens operational. Lizzy and the other freshmen still had no reason to know about that. A few questions had been asked about the shadowy “scout”, but since he had made no reappearance and the upperclassmen were tight-lipped about it, the younger Foxes had moved on. Kevin and Neil had not.

The Ravens themselves were warming up when the Foxes arrived on the court, and they looked up, seemingly as one, as the Foxes gathered into a loose group to stretch. Kevin remembered what it was like to have that kind of perfect synchronicity in everything. He didn’t envy them anymore. He recognized most of the team, having shared a court with them only a few years ago, but his eyes settled on the tall dealer at the center of the cluster. Darren Roose was the Ravens’ new captain, and Kevin knew all the terrible reasons why Tetsuji had probably chosen him. Jean definitely knew a couple. Even Dan had inside knowledge. Kevin had an irrational hope that she’d brought her stilettos in case —

The sudden realization was a punch to the gut. The true difference between this moment at Evermore and all the others was not the freshmen who had joined the Foxes. It was not the contract with Ichirou that hung over his head. It was not his newly minted friendships with his teammates. It was not his age or his skill level or his hand or his state of mind. It was the fact that for the first time in his life, Kevin was standing inside Evermore without Riko. He would not be appearing at the court door with a haughty expression to look down on his opponents. He would not be nodding at Tetsuji’s instructions or shouting at errant backliners or receiving red cards for illegal checking. Somewhere in a corner of his mind, Kevin had still believed that while Riko might be missing from Kevin’s world, he was simply away, waiting in the shadows of Evermore like he had been when Kevin had first left West Virginia. But he wasn’t, and never would be again. The only place where Riko still drew breath was inside Kevin’s own head.

“Lizzy?” Kevin snapped back to the present at the sound of Dan’s voice. A few of the Foxes were already taking their places on the court, but those that remained on the sidelines turned to look at where Lizzy was staring off into the stands. She staggered backwards a step. It was practically normal for a Fox to freak out at Evermore, but all the usual enemies were inside the court walls.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Jack hissed.

“She’s running.” Andrew’s voice was flat and hard, with no room for argument, but he didn’t look interested. If it wasn’t Neil, Kevin knew he wouldn’t be.

Lizzy backed up two more steps into Brian. She was shaking now, and whispering barely audible denials to no one in particular. She looked like she was going to be sick.

“Lizzy.” Dan reached out a hand to her, but Lizzy flinched and looked straight at Kevin.

“He’s here.”

Kevin’s mind clicked into sudden understanding. He looked at the scar on her cheek and swallowed hard. _Not forever, though._

Lizzy must have known he was getting out. It had to have happened recently, too. Kevin had been so wrapped up in his own past traumas that he hadn’t even considered what Lizzy’s had been doing to her. He felt a sharp stab of guilt at his own selfishness. It wasn’t something he was used to feeling.

Lizzy ran trembling hands over her dark hair. Her eyes were terrified and brimming with tears.

If the Foxes had ever cared to puzzle over it, they might wonder what exy and history had in common, besides the fact that Kevin Day spent most of his brainpower thinking about one or the other. Kevin was a technical player, methodical, obsessive, and precise. Where Neil saw an opponent, Kevin saw angles and patterns. He mapped every possibility, every variation and shift. Kevin’s game was recognizing and anticipating, so by the time the other player had determined a course of action, Kevin was already responding. He strove to make each play a story whose ending he already knew by heart. History was the same. Life was messy, but history had the bird’s eye view for pattern, the privileged perspective no one else had. It could never get ahead of him, because it had already happened. Kevin was already viewing the results and picking them apart for information. On a level Betsy prodded often, it was about control.

He was never in control inside Evermore. Not when he had arrived as a small child, not when he had left as a wounded adult. He was never going to be able to see himself here the way he saw the court or the Battle of the Bulge. He was too close, seeing a page held only an inch from his eyes so he couldn’t make out the words. But he could read Lizzy just fine. From this distance, that kind of paralyzing fear focused into a shape Kevin would recognize anywhere.

“What’s he doing here?” Lizzy was stammering. “What the fuck is he doing here?”

Dan was moving towards her again, but Kevin put a shoulder between them and grabbed hold of Lizzy’s upper arms. She was crying in earnest now, looking up into his face with wide eyes as her expression crumbled like a column of sand.

“I can’t —“ she sobbed. “I fucking can’t —“

“Sit down.” Kevin pulled her towards a bench and felt the Foxes close ranks around them, blocking the Ravens from view.

“Kevin,” Dan cautioned. He ignored her.

“Sit down,” he repeated, never taking his eyes off Lizzy. He knelt in front of the younger striker and tried not to be uncomfortable at the unfamiliar sight of someone crying openly in front of him.

“Breathe,” he told Lizzy. He made his voice as close as he could to the calm, firm tone that Lizzy had used back at Palmetto. It probably came out more harshly than it should have, but it was the best he could do. “Just like you told me, right? Breathe.”

Lizzy just shook her head violently.

“Yes, you can,” Kevin insisted. Lizzy glanced nervously behind her at the stands. “Look at me.”

Dark brown eyes met Kevin’s own.

“Don’t you dare run away,” he warned. Lizzy took a teetering breath, and Kevin watched a tear leave another shining track down her cheek, only to be stopped by her scar.

“See this box?” Kevin asked, pointing a vague finger up at the court walls. “No one can touch you in this box. You hear me? No one can hurt you in there unless you let them. You work with this team and you _keep breathing_. You take that fear and you channel it. You focus it.”

Lizzy’s racquet was sitting against the bench. Kevin grabbed it and held it just above her knees.

“This is your weapon,” he told her. “Every step you run on this court is a step further away from him.”

“But he’s right there,” Lizzy argued. Her voice was tinier than Kevin had ever heard it.

“You and I both know they never really go away.”

Lizzy’s expression was intense and inscrutable. Kevin stared hard at her, willing her to make the decision, to understand that he and the rest of the equally haunted Foxes would stand between her and a threat, no matter how reckless it might be. Andrew had done it for him, Neil had done it for all of them. Kevin had failed to do so in the past, but he wouldn’t this time. All she had to do was make the call and stand up.

Slowly, Lizzy raised her hand from its place in her lap and slid her fingers around the handle of the racquet.

“Get on the court,” Kevin ordered. Lizzy kept her eyes on his for another beat, and disappeared from his field of vision. He ran his eyes over the stands in front of him as he stood, as if he could pick out Lizzy’s brother on instinct alone.

“What was that about?” Allison tore her gaze away from Lizzy as the striker shoved a helmet on her head and took her place at half court with Neil.

Kevin met Allison’s eyes, but didn’t know how to answer.

“Kevin,” Coach rumbled.

“Lizzy’s brother’s here.”

Wymack’s expression darkened. Kevin hadn’t been sure his father would know the significance of the statement, but apparently he did.

“Where?” was the only question he asked.

“In the stands somewhere,” Kevin replied, raking another look over the crowd. “I don’t know what he looks like.”

Wymack nodded and glanced back at the court. “Let’s win this game and worry about it.” He turned to the remaining Foxes. “No one comes into this part of the court who we don’t know, and no one wanders the stadium.” He didn’t wait for a response before turning back Kevin. “I’ll talk to the security guards. You’re keeping an eye on Lizzy?”

Kevin hesitated, but realized he’d already made the decision. Probably quite some time ago. He nodded. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the surprised expression on Dan’s face and Allison’s smirk. Somehow, Kevin could tell there was going to be money exchanged in the locker room. It wasn’t worth being irritated about.

“Good.” Wymack squeezed Kevin’s shoulder, once, and turned to watch his players.

The buzzer sounded, and the game began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may remember a certain Raven who messed with Dan at a banquet and got a stiletto to the balls for it. You may also remember from Nora’s extra content that Riko didn’t always abuse Jean alone. I thought we all deserved an actual name to hate. Let’s hope we never see him again. Also, never say I don’t write fun parallels for you. Look at our boy maturing right before our proud eyes!


	10. Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to all of you for commenting and kudos-ing and giving Kevin Day the love he so obviously deserves! Happy Friday!
> 
>  
> 
> Also, you can let out the breath you've been holding now.

The Foxes won 12-9. Kevin got into two separate fights with Darren — probably the new captain trying to assert dominance — and three Ravens received red cards. Jack left the court with a broken nose and a card of his own. They were all bruised and sore by the time the final buzzer sounded, but they had defeated the Ravens once again.

Kevin jogged to a stop beside Lizzy, who removed her helmet and looked at the score.

“We did it,” she said. She looked tired, but much more solid than she had at the beginning of the game. Kevin had ever seen her play so well. He told himself the feeling in his chest wasn’t deep or strong enough to be pride.

Lizzy waited until they reached the away lounge to wrap her arms around his middle. After a moment’s hesitation, Kevin closed a hand around the back of a shoulder pad and held on tight. No one in their right mind would call Kevin Day a hugger, but although the sensation was unfamiliar, it wasn’t unwelcome. He draped his other arm over the first.

Lizzy gave a tiny laugh. “What’s the damage, Princess?”

“None today,” he said. “Consider us even.”

Lizzy pulled away to look back up at him. “Okay.”

The rest of the Foxes had a few comments regarding that exchange, mostly from the freshmen, but they had no real teeth to them. They were floating on the high of their win and the knowledge that they would be leaving Evermore soon.

To Kevin’s surprise, Dan sat down in the seat next to him when they reached the bus. The two of them had locked eyes over Lizzy’s head as they placed themselves between her and the metal barrier on either side on the way out of the stadium. Lizzy’s brother did make an appearance, reaching over the barrier to catch her attention and calling out her name. It was hard to see any malice in him at first glance — he was of average height and build and there was nothing particularly off about his face — but having lived with Andrew for three years, Kevin knew that danger sometimes lived under the most unlikely of surfaces. Lizzy shuddered at the sound of his voice, but Dan’s arm was around her shoulders in a heartbeat, and Matt slowed just enough to block the freshman Fox from view. Kevin looked over his shoulder and simply stared at Lizzy’s brother, communicating through his gaze how much the Foxes would enjoy beating the polo-shirted little shit bloody if he set so much as a toe over the barrier. Lizzy’s brother snapped his mouth shut, and hadn’t tried to push through the crowd any more, though he curled his lip as he defiantly met Kevin’s eyes. Lizzy was sitting with Brooke now near the back of the bus, and was smiling at Nicky as he re-enacted a particularly remarkable goal she’d made.

“That was pretty impressive, what you did back there,” Dan observed.

“I’m sure it was an isolated incident.” Kevin fidgeted with the band of his watch. He wasn’t used to being complimented on something that wasn’t exy.

“Maybe,” Dan allowed. She looked out the window as the bus pulled away from Evermore. “How did you know what to say to her?”

Kevin hesitated. He wasn’t used to confiding in Dan, either. “She, uh, she caught me having a panic attack a few months ago. I just said to her what she said to me then.”

“She told you your exy racquet was a weapon for outrunning your demons?”

“No,” Kevin admitted. “But that’s true for this team, isn’t it?”

Dan nodded slowly and looked at him as if seeing him in a new light. “You’re doing okay, right, Kev?”

Kevin wracked his brain for a reason why Dan wanted to know. Neil and significant trauma may have fused the Foxes last year, but he still belonged with Andrew’s lot, who certainly didn’t make a habit of asking overt questions about each others’ mental states.

“I don’t know if you’ve ever outright asked me that.”

Dan shrugged. “Usually it’s pretty obvious when you’re not. And we did just play the Ravens at their home stadium. Don’t think I didn’t realize that this was the first time you’ve been there without him.”

Now it was Kevin’s turn to look at Dan differently. He had to think about it for a minute. “Yeah,” he said finally. “I think I’m fine.”

“Neil fine or actually fine?”

Kevin rolled his eyes in response and Dan laughed, finally revealing her prize from behind her knees: the emergency vodka. She held it out to Kevin.

“Congrats on whooping some Raven ass,” she said with a grin. Kevin said nothing, but he accepted the bottle.

“Well,” Dan said, resting her hands on her knees, “you enjoy that. I’m going to go shove my tongue down Matt’s throat now.”

“Thanks for the visual,” Kevin deadpanned. Dan ruffled his hair as she stood. Kevin tried to shove her off and fix it, but something warmed within him anyway. She usually only did that to Neil.

Kevin tapped his thumb against the label on the bottle. If he opened it now, the smell would draw the freshmen like flies to honey. And if he was really being truthful to Dan, he didn’t need it anyway. He mentally checked his insides for holes and found that most of them felt significantly smaller than usual.

He fell asleep against the window about an hour into the ride, and didn’t wake up until the bus decelerated in front of the Foxhole Court. The outside lights were on, illuminating the building in shades of white and gloriously obnoxious orange. One by one, the Foxes filed out of the bus with their gear and scattered into the parking lot. There was certainly at least one party waiting for them back at Fox Tower. The expanse of asphalt was empty except for a few of the Foxes’ cars, plus one other vehicle that Kevin didn’t immediately recognize. Matt evidently knew the model at least, because he let out a low murmur of appreciation at its evident priciness and class. It was the type of car professional athletes could afford, and because of that, Kevin barely saw it.

Thea Muldani was leaning against the passenger door with her muscular arms folded over her chest. She wasn’t wearing a jacket despite the evening chill, and her heeled boots were crossed at the ankle in the most casual stance she ever sported in public. Kevin happened to have firsthand knowledge of how relaxed she could be in private, but no one else needed to know that. Thea tossed her hair over her shoulder, exposing the number fourteen at her throat and the bright twinkle of a dangling earring as she quirked up her mouth in a small, achingly beautiful smile. Kevin’s heart nearly cracked his ribs trying to escape to her. It had been almost two months since he had seen her last. Well, forty-eight — now forty-nine — days, but who was counting?

Matt might have been saying something, but Kevin was most certainly not listening. He cleared the space between the bus and Thea’s car and placed his gear on the ground, but only because instinct would never let him intentionally drop it. He realized he was still holding the bottle of vodka as he slid his arms around Thea’s waist. But then her lips found his, and everything else was irrelevant, the same way it always was. Like the way she played, everything about the way Thea kissed was purposeful, passionate, intense, and skilled, and made Kevin’s knees weak. He could feel his mouth pulling into a smile even as he kissed her back.

Sometimes Kevin felt that he’d spent his whole life waiting for Thea. Waiting to be old enough to play on the Ravens with her. Waiting for Riko to look away. Waiting for her next note to appear in his textbook. Waiting to admit to himself that she wasn’t just someone he found attractive, for things to be safe enough, for her plane to land. Kevin didn’t mind waiting, per se — it was better than not having anything to wait for — but it was infinitely better when he didn’t have to. And Thea was here now. It was wonderful.

Too soon, they pulled back to breathe, and Kevin raised a hand to cup her face.

“Hi,” he whispered. Thea was still the only person who could make him truly shy.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it in time for the game,” Thea said. “I watched it on my laptop, though. Very respectable.”

Kevin grinned. “We do our best.” He kissed her again, sighing contentedly and enjoying the way it felt to be pressed up against her. She was warm and fierce and solid and everything he wanted. “I can’t believe you’re really here.”

“Lizzy called me,” Thea said with a rueful twist of her mouth. “She said you’d been pretty anxious lately. Thought it would do you some good if I stopped by.”

Kevin blinked. Lizzy had called Thea? He turned to look for her, and saw her already walking towards Colby’s car with Brooke and Brian. She gave him a little wave and a tired, but still positively shit-eating grin.

“I guess I have,” Kevin admitted, still a little stunned. “How did she manage to call you?”

“She stole your phone.” Thea was reaching behind her for the bottle of vodka. “You should probably change your passcode.” She inspected the label. “Not a bad choice. We can drink it at the hotel.”

“There’s a hotel involved?” Kevin asked, raising his eyebrows. He ran a hand over Thea’s back across the waistband of her jeans.

“Well, I’m not staying in your shitty dorm, am I?” Thea gently pushed him back and placed the bottle back into his hands. Then she slid out from between him and the car and moved around to the driver’s side. Kevin leaned down to put the bottle in his bag, already fantasizing about which parts of Thea’s body he could lick the alcohol off of.

“Use protection, Kev!” Nicky called from the sidewalk as Kevin opened the passenger side door. Kevin merely flipped him off and slammed it shut.

“So who’s this ballsy Lizzy who calls me to worry about you?” Thea asked teasingly as soon as they were off campus.

Kevin watched the streetlights change patterns across Thea’s features as she looked through the windshield. He frowned, not immediately sure if he wanted to say it out loud. But he was past hiding parts of himself from Thea, and who was she going to tell, anyway? “I think she’s my best friend,” he said.

Thea glanced at him over the center console. “Good.” She sounded genuine and a little impressed. “I like her.” Her earring brushed her neck as she turned back to the road. Kevin might have been used to not touching Thea, but that didn’t mean he was any good at it.

“Does this car go any faster?” he demanded.

“It fucking better.” Thea’s toe urged the gas pedal, and they sped off into the night.


	11. Aftermath

Kevin had Thea drop him at Fox Tower on her way to the gym the next morning, leaving her with a lingering, indulgent kiss and the promise that he would meet her there later. He turned back to watch the car peel around the corner, and felt deeply satisfied with the knowledge that he would have an entire thirty-six more hours of her presence. The other Foxes would mock him for months, but that was all worth it for even the briefest of visits. He climbed the stairs to the third floor, but didn’t go to his own suite. The clothes he’d had from last night were clean enough for the gym, and Neil and Andrew had probably taken advantage of his absence from the dorm. He was not in the mood to try his luck in case things were not as clean — or as clothed — as he had left them. Besides, he was here to see Lizzy.

He knocked on the door and waited a few seconds, then knocked again. Lizzy opened the door in the middle of the second series of knocks. She smiled up at him, then looked back into the suite behind her.

“There are some very hungover people in this suite, so be quiet, okay?”

As if he would ever enter a room in the same manner as Nicky. Kevin nodded his agreement, and Lizzy opened the door further so he could slip inside.

“Coffee?”

“Please.” There were fewer empty cups around than he had anticipated, even though there were several, and there was a pair of sneakers by the door that looked too big to belong to any of the girls who lived in the suite. Clearly the celebration had made its way here rather late, probably after it broke up in Dan’s room. Lizzy started the coffee, and Kevin leaned against the counter to take a good look at her, as if he could read her emotional state from the side of her face. She didn’t appear that hungover, so obviously she hadn’t used alcohol as a coping mechanism last night. That was probably a good sign, and something Kevin should probably learn how to do. Maybe next year.

“How are you doing?” he asked.

Lizzy shrugged. “I think he tried to call a couple of times. The number’s blocked so I can’t be sure, but…yeah.” She turned to look at him then. “Really, I’m okay.”

It occurred to Kevin to ask if Lizzy had filed a restraining order, but he thought it might be more helpful to say “You know, if he comes around here, we’ll kick his ass all the way back to prison”.

Lizzy gave a small smile at that. She opened the cabinet to find mugs, but it was empty.

“If I only I could convince Andrew that it’s in his best interest to stab him,” Kevin mused, “but only Neil can make Andrew do things.”

“Yeah,” Lizzy agreed. She inspected a few of the mugs on the counter and picked two to wash. “Are they, like…together?”

“As much as Neil and Andrew can be together like that,” Kevin told her, “yes, they are.” He looked up quickly, realizing that although he hadn’t been expressly forbidden from sharing this information, he definitely had not been given permission either. “But you didn’t hear that from me.”

Lizzy nodded, but she looked a little doubtful. “How does that…?”

Kevin cut her off. “I don’t ask questions like that.”

Lizzy placed the clean mugs on the counter and turned to the coffee, which had finished brewing. Kevin grabbed a towel to dry off the mugs. “Do you get sexiled?” she asked.

Kevin grimaced. “A lot.”

Lizzy burst out laughing, then remembered the hungover people trying to sleep, and tried to squash it, only to laugh harder. Kevin joined in, enjoying the fact that he could laugh with her about the particular lunacies of his existence in Fox Tower. Eventually, it died down, after they’d tried to picture it and then tried very hard not to picture it. Then they both tried not to look at each other for fear of starting the whole cycle over again. Lizzy poured the coffee and got milk from the fridge. They began to drink in silence.

“You called Thea,” Kevin told her after a while.

“Yeah, I did.” Lizzy didn’t sound smug about it, but she didn’t sound ashamed either. “You should really change your passcode. It’s your fucking birthday.”

“How do _you_ know my birthday?”

Lizzy looked at him like he’d just asked her how many wives Henry VIII had. “Google.”

“Ah.”

Lizzy stirred her coffee with a spoon. “I mean, you were a mess for weeks, and I knew it was only going to get worse the closer we got to the Ravens game. I’m not a former Raven. I don’t know what it was like in there or what you went through. I didn’t know how to help, so I called in the big guns.”

Kevin nodded. It made sense.

“You’re not mad, are you?”

“No,” Kevin assured her. “No, I’m definitely not mad. I just wish I’d done it myself.”

“Next time, you should,” Lizzy said. “She loves you. That’s what she’s there for.”

Yes, she did. She’d told him that. Thea Muldani had told him that. He didn’t know if he’d believed her the first time, but she’d said it twice now. His face felt warm suddenly, and he didn’t think it was the coffee.

“You’re a lovestruck idiot, you know that?”

Kevin blushed harder. If it had been any of the other Foxes, he would have probably denied it and shot back something borderline offensive, but Lizzy wasn’t the kind of person you lied to.

“Don’t tell anyone. I have to protect my reputation as an asshole.” It wasn’t exactly a “thank you” — for seeing through him, for making the coffee, for calling Thea — but Lizzy would hear it anyway.

“Not a reputation, Kev,” Lizzy scoffed. “You are an asshole.” She’d heard it.

He lowered his cup of coffee so he could punch her in the arm. “You’re probably right. Listen, Thea’s around for the rest of the weekend, so night practice is going to be private for a couple of days.”

“So many uses for an exy court,” Lizzy mused. “Whatever _shall_ I do without you?”

Kevin rolled his eyes. “Just don’t watch _Reign_ without me.”

“No promises.”

“Oh, _now_ who’s the asshole?”

“Get out of here, Day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I drink tea, so I really have no idea how long it takes coffee to brew.


	12. Epilogue

Kevin Day’s presence reverberated through the clump of Foxes the moment he got close enough to be recognized. They were still a small team, but there seemed to be so much more orange in the hallway than Kevin remembered, even with some of them still in the locker room. The older players all knew him personally — Jack went out of his way to demonstrate this — but the younger ones looked a little starstruck. It felt good, if odd, to be back in the Foxhole Court now, three years after graduating, and Kevin let it show on his face, but it was a muted version of his Press Persona. These were still Foxes. They saw through bullshit better than most.

He heard Lizzy’s voice before he saw her. She was laughing, in that unapologetically loud way she did, which demanded that you notice her. The locker room door partially blocked Kevin’s view, and Lizzy’s too, because she was demanding to know “what the hell are y’all jabbering about”. Lizzy loved the term “y’all”, and had readily adopted it along with Chick-Fil-A her sophomore year when she decided to embrace her status as a South Carolinian. Plus, it had annoyed Kevin at the time.

Lizzy’s head poked around the door without waiting for an answer from her teammates, and her face brightened when she saw Kevin. She swerved around the door to hug him, nearly knocking over a freshman in the process. Kevin smelled the familiar shampoo the Foxes used in their locker room showers as Lizzy swayed on her tiptoes. The more things changed…

“How are you, you bastard?” Lizzy asked against his shoulder.

“Still good,” Kevin said. It was true. His team had been doing well, someone from Comedy Central had called him about doing an episode of Drunk History, Neil and Andrew had visited last week, and he and Thea were celebrating their first wedding anniversary in a few months. Of course, Lizzy knew all this, so Kevin didn’t feel the need to go into any more detail than that.

“That was a pretty decent performance out there,” he told her. That was true, too, even an understatement. Lizzy had been on fire the whole time she was in the game, scoring more goals than even Jack. Kevin knew better by this point than to tell himself he wasn’t immensely proud of her. He’d even texted Neil to brag on her behalf. Neil had responded with a “Well, look who turned out to be right”, but Kevin was in too good a mood to let even that bother him.

Lizzy pretended to look suspicious. “Thea going to keep letting you flatter me like that?”

Now it was Kevin’s turn to laugh. “You can ask her later. She’s waiting outside.”

“Ok, sure,” Lizzy chirped. “So, not that I’m not thrilled to see you, but what are you doing here?”

It wasn’t a ridiculous question to ask. Kevin did visit Palmetto sometimes, but it usually coincided with a particularly important game, and was always announced, at least to Lizzy. The Foxes were still in the running late in the season, but championships and their game against USC (which were shaping up to be one and the same — again) were both still weeks away. And the fact that Thea was here too, for apparently no reason, was certainly uncommon.

Kevin paused, remembering there were a good twenty Foxes staring at the two of them. He didn’t really want to do this in front of an audience, but suddenly couldn’t figure out a way to extricate them from the hallway that wouldn’t be painfully awkward.

Luckily, he was saved by his father, who told the Foxes to get lost and go get drunk, except for Sheena and some kid named Ben, because they were on press duty. He put a strong hand on Kevin’s shoulder before motioning those seniors who had mistakenly decided they could stay in the direction of the exit. Brooke, Robin, and Brian waved over their shoulders.

“Abby says you’re invited over, and I don’t think it’s negotiable,” Wymack warned Kevin.

Kevin nodded gravely, but he was pleased. At the very least, Abby’s cooking was better than anything he could scrounge up himself, and Thea would appreciate it.

“Didn’t think it was,” he said. “I’ll see you later.” Wymack gave him a knowing look and glanced at Lizzy before giving Kevin’s shoulder a parting pat and following his team. Kevin had called days ago to tell him about this particular trip into familiar territory. He didn’t need to be here for this part, since he already knew how it was going to end.

Kevin turned back to Lizzy. “I brought you something.”

“I love presents!” Lizzy bounced on her heels. Kevin suddenly hoped she’d never lose the part of her that was well and truly under the age of seven.

Kevin was going to tell her that it wasn’t exactly a present, but discarded the idea in favor of removing his reason for being there from his jacket pocket. The stack of papers had been folded up so it could fit, and Lizzy took it from his outstretched hand.

“Open it,” he urged. The waiting had been difficult, and it had been like clamping down a reflex to not tell Lizzy something. He didn’t want to delay any more than he had to.

Lizzy unfolded the paper, then turned it around so she could read it right-side up. Her face went slack with shock. Seconds ticked by in stunned silence.

“Kevin,” she breathed. “This is a contract.”

Kevin watched her stare at it.

“This is a contract with my name on it,” Lizzy told him, like he might not know.

Finally she tore her gaze away from the pages in her hands.

“Kevin, this is a contract with _your team_.”

“I asked if I could deliver it myself,” Kevin said. “It’s legitimate.”

Lizzy covered her mouth with her hand, still looking at the paper like it was in a foreign language.

“They said they hadn’t seen a rise as fast as yours since Neil Josten,” he added.

Lizzy looked up. Her eyes were misty, but there was a grin spreading its way across her features behind her hand.

“They did?”

“Well,” Kevin admitted, “I did.”

The pages of the contract crinkled together as Lizzy threw her arms around his neck. He held on tightly, silently and powerfully grateful for her. For his best friend. Who he would be happily stuck with for another three years at least.

Finally, they let go, and Lizzy wiped her eyes a little while Kevin simply smiled at her. Then she gave a little sniff and set her jaw.

“Well,” she said, giving the papers a prim little shake. “You got a pen?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we have come to the end of our little tale. I hope it was as satisfying for all of you to read as it was for me to write. Thank you to Nora, first and foremost for giving us this world, and crazy_like_a for creating a freshman named Lizzy, to Jill and Dan for beta-ing (even though Jill would like to be a theta or something) and finally, to everybody who read and kudos-ed and commented! Special shout out to potatojuiceplease and Nylkebi23 for making my heart soar every time I saw your names in my inbox.
> 
> I have another AFTG-related something (it’s shorter) that I’ll post soon, but then I’m taking a break to plan and write my next big project, which will be Harry Potter-related. So stay tuned!
> 
> And finally, congratulations to me for getting through this whole process and still managing to keep not one, but TWO PLOT POINTS a secret from Jill! HA! I dare you all to try it, it’s not easy.
> 
> Ta ta for now!  
> Love, your favorite punctuation mark

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!!!


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